


Falling

by muttthecowcat22



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ice Adolescence (Yuri!!! on Ice), M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Young Katsuki Yuuri, Young Victor Nikiforov, yoimoviezine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 23:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muttthecowcat22/pseuds/muttthecowcat22
Summary: He remembered the camp and that year, just before his career really took off, the beach, the wind. He remembered a boy who certainly looked like Yuuri.Dark hair, no glasses, team Japan jacket. To think that was Yuuri.Yuuri.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Ice Speculation Zine ([on twitter](https://twitter.com/yoimoviezine)) in which we speculated what would be in the upcoming movie!! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun working on this project and would like to thank the mods and all the participants for a wonderful experience <3

He knew as soon as his blade left the ice.  
  
Not enough height, not quite enough power. He’d withheld too much. That one pressure point in his knee still pricking him after so many years. An injury that had never quite healed.  
  
His blade scraped, and he landed on his hip with a dull thud, teeth clattering.  
  
“Victor!”  
  
He wanted to respond to Yuuri, reassure him, but the sharp pain held him immobilized against the ice, curled into his hip, heat blooming around it despite the chill. By the time Yuuri gripped his shoulder, the pain had somewhat dulled.  
  
“What are you doing, idiot?”  
  
Victor flinched. So, not Yuuri—Yura instead. He glanced up at green eyes and sharp blond hair, haloed by the rink lights. Yuuri, Victor’s Yuuri, skidded to a stop beside him.  
  
“Victor! Okay? Are you okay?” Yuuri’s accent gathered thick around his panic, oddly comforting Victor. It reminded him of home—Yuuri’s home, really, but his too—Hasetsu.  
  
“I think so.” Victor attempted to move his leg, the pain remaining dull with the effort. Both Yuri's helped pull him to his feet. He leaned on Yuuri’s shoulder as they skated to the boards.  
  
Victor knew it only felt like a bruise even before the medical team confirmed his suspicions and ordered him to rest for the remainder of the day. He was glad that the fall had happened near the end of practice. Yuuri called it an early day as well and helped him hobble out the door amidst snickers and calls of “old man!” from Yura and Mila.  
  
It was mainly his ego that was injured.  
  
The quad flip. He hadn’t fallen on a flip in . . . well, months. But it hadn’t been nearly this bad for the entire year, not since Yuuri had started training with him.  
  
“You scared me today . . . when you didn’t get up,” Yuuri said, his voice quiet from the driver’s seat, his eyes trained on the road.  
  
The sun sparkled over the Neva as they left the rink behind for the tan stone buildings of the historic district. Yuuri’s hair highlighted brown in the natural light from the windows, soft.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Yuuri’s fingers fanned out from the steering wheel. “No, no! I didn’t mean for you to apologize.” He glanced towards Victor, his eyes away from the road for just a moment.  
  
Victor reached for the back of his hand, soothing the soft skin there with his thumb. “I know.” He smiled as Yuuri visibly relaxed again. It was rare for him to be so anxious when they were alone. Was he really that affected by Victor’s fall?  
  
“Since we’re leaving early, I think I’m going to make soup. I found a new recipe online yesterday. Does that sound good?”  
  
“That sounds lovely, solnyshko.” The edge of Yuuri’s mouth fluttered upward by just the smallest amount when he caught the words, barely noticeable. But Victor didn’t miss it.  
  
By the time they reached the apartment, Victor was able to stand unassisted. Yuuri tucked him under a blanket on the couch anyway, his leg propped above at least three pillows.  
  
The soup was warm and filling despite being composed primarily of vegetables. Yuuri and Makkachin crowded into the one lounge chair in their living room. Makkachin tried to eat Yuuri’s soup, pushing her snout up between his arms and over the bowl. He shooed her away and laughed, the sound bouncing around the walls, filling the corners and Victor’s smile.  
  
Yuuri was so . . . young, and bright. Victor couldn’t stop himself from comparing their day to his life from just a year before. The apartment was so much warmer now; Victor didn’t dread coming home anymore. He felt . . . safer, younger too.  
  
In the shower, the dark bruise glowed red and purple over his hip, all his joints aching. It was sobering.  
  
And frustrating. He knew—theoretically—that he couldn’t rebound from injuries the way he had even just two years before. But knowing and actually feeling the pain . . . Would he really be able to make the comeback that he had imagined? That he . . . wanted? Because he did want it.  
  
Finally, he wanted it.  
  
His body seemed to be screaming that he had missed his chance.  
  
He gasped when he accidentally bumped his hip while settling into bed.  
  
“Vitya?” Yuuri reached for his arm, steadying him.  
  
“It’s fine.” Victor smiled. “Just a bump.”  
  
Yuuri gave him a withering look, seeing straight through the smile. “Okay, but if you need more painkillers . . .”  
  
“No, it’s fine. Really.” It wasn’t completely fine, not really. He probably did need more painkillers, but it felt like a defeat if he admitted it.  
  
So, Victor settled into bed, listening to Yuuri and Makkachin’s rhythmic breathing, as the old hopeless feeling that he had managed to hold off for months sank around his shoulders.  
  
He probably wouldn’t be able to make a successful comeback. It was an objective observation. He should probably just retire. His last season had been a great one, shining gold, but it had felt passionless, unmotivated, burned out. He . . . didn ’t want it to end like that. He had been ready to retire. He had been ready, and Yuuri . . . What would Yuuri think if Victor competed . . . and failed?  
  
A warm pressure weighed into his back, soothing circles into his sore muscles. “You’re still awake?” Yuuri asked.  
  
“I thought you were asleep.” Victor turned over as Yuuri pulled him closer.  
  
Yuuri chuckled, just barely audible, smile visible in the moonlight through the window. “I do this more than you do, remember?”  
  
“Oh, what’s—”  
  
Yuuri pulled Victor’s head closer against his chest, his heart beating steady. “No, I want to hear about you tonight?”  
  
“Okay. Just . . .” Victor let out a shaky breath, settling closer to the base of Yuuri’s neck. “Do you think I can really make a comeback? I mean, I just felt so old today.” It still felt odd, foreign to put his thoughts into words and tell Yuuri. It made it more real. “My body—my legs won’t do what they could before. I want to compete. And I just—I’m beginning to think I wasted too much time not—not feeling anything. Years. I wish I had that back, but I can’t. What are you going to think if I don’t make it?”  
  
Yuuri rubbed his back, his arms, slowly, allowing Victor’s breathing to even out again. “Vitya, I know you want to do this. I want you to compete because this is what you want. Watching you skate is just an added bonus.” He chuckled again, his chest fluttering beneath Victor’s head. “And I have no reason to believe that you won’t perform extremely well. But even if you don’t . . .” He squeezed Victor’s hand against his chest. “I think it’s worth it because it’s what you want.”  
  
“I know . . .”  
  
“Okay.” Yuuri shifted under him, his arms tightening. “I’m going to tell you a story, then, so you can sleep.”  
  
That made Victor smile. “Like a child? I don’t know if that will work.”  
  
“I think this story will.” Yuuri’s voice sounded firm, confident.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“You probably don’t remember this.” His fingers threaded through Victor’s hair, soothing it. “But our small skating group from Hasetsu, just Yuuko, Takeshi, and me, attended one of Yakov’s skating camps. It was a long time ago. I must have been ten or eleven years old. It was before you had won any major competitions.  
  
“You were there—supposedly helping with a few of our classes, but I didn’t know that when we arrived. We walked into the rink. I was terrified. A new country, another language, new ice. We were still in our team jackets, and . . .” He pressed a kiss into Victor’s hair. “And I saw the most beautiful skater. He flowed over the ice in a perfect spiral, had this long silver hair that swept behind him. And he immediately flew into an axel.  
  
“Watching him made me excited to be there. I wanted to skate like that. I worked my spirals and my double, then triple axel to death that year.  
  
“I’m pretty sure that was the first time I ever saw you. You inspired me before you had really won anything—well, at least international, anyway.” His words fell faster, his breaths quickening. “I didn’t really start following your skating until I saw you again a year or so later through replays of the broadcast from Junior Worlds. But I’ll never forget that first time.”  
  
Victor teared up and turned his face into Yuuri’s chest as the story came to an end. The warmth from Yuuri’s blush had spread all the way down his neck. Victor’s mind was racing. He didn’t remember Yuuri, but he remembered the camp and that year, just before his career really took off, the beach, the wind. He remembered a boy who certainly looked like Yuuri—except for one thing.  
  
“Were you wearing glasses?”  
  
“Huh?” Yuuri pulled back until he met Victor’s eyes.  
  
“At the skating camp, did you wear glasses?”  
  
“Hmm. I don’t really remember. But it was a skating camp, so no, probably not, at least most of the time.” He settled under Victor again, wrapping his arms around him.  
  
“I think . . . I remember you.”  
  
“Oh.” Victor felt Yuuri’s smile press into his forehead.  
  
Victor’s mind continued to race as he tried to pinpoint every memory of the boy he remembered from the camp. Dark hair, no glasses, team Japan jacket. To think that was Yuuri.  
  
Yuuri.  
  
He should have known. How could he have missed it?  
  
Victor had followed Makkachin down to the beach during that camp. He had thought that she was the only good thing he had then. He’d been alone in St. Petersburg, only a few medals under his belt, nothing that really mattered, nothing that made him valuable.  
  
The wind had been cold, harsh, old snow crunching beneath his shoes. The waves were dark, angry—in a way that Victor could never be. He had wanted to stay there, just stand there until the waves and the wind ate away at him, until he was as much of a nothing as he felt.  
  
Makkachin barked at something behind him. He turned.  
  
A boy from the skating camp, his dark hair fluttering beneath a jacket that was much too thin for the weather, stood on the pavement just beyond the sand. He jumped and turned away from where he had been staring at Victor, continued walking.  
  
Victor smiled as he caught up with him, offered him a scarf. The boy accepted, a blush bright on his cheeks.  
  
As they walked back together to the dorms near the rink, they talked about the weather, dogs, and skating. The boy returned the scarf once they stepped inside. Victor remembered the way his small arms had felt wrapped around his shoulders as he had hugged the boy goodbye.  
  
Victor still owned the scarf after so many years. It hung beside their front door, threadbare and faded compared to the designer coats beside it.  
  
He no longer had to wonder why Yuuri wore the old thing to practice every day. ❄️


	2. A New Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short doodle chapter was included in the doodle zine! Takes place during Victor's flashback!

The boy kept glancing at Makkachin, who obediently stayed close to Victor’s side. Victor wondered if he was afraid of her.  
  
The wind whistled around them, and he shivered despite Victor’s thick scarf swallowing him up to his ears. Victor quickened their pace. It was his own fault that they were out in the harsh weather, after all. What if the boy fell sick from the cold?  
  
“Can I pet her?”  
  
Victor turned to him, surprised. Oh. “Of course,” he responded. The wind blew into his face as he turned, sending him sputtering. When he looked up again, the boy was smiling at him wide, his eyes crinkled around the edges.  
  
They slowed to a halt, and the boy knelt down to run his fingers through Makkachin’s curls. Makkachin boofed and jumped up to his shoulders to lick his face before Victor could pull her back, leaving the boy sputtering under her unrelenting shower of kisses. A smile bloomed on his lips as he laughed. The sound cut through the wind and the clouds, and Victor felt his lips tug a little at the corners.  
  
The boy murmured to the poodle in strings of Japanese interspersed with calls of “Makka!” He ran his arms around her and pulled her into a close hug despite her squirming. When she managed to lick his ear, he jumped, throwing both of them on their backs, and Victor couldn’t stop himself from laughing.  
  
He laughed until he cried, attracting the boy’s dark eyed gaze.  
  
“Victor?” He stood, tugging Makka’s leash to regain some control. “Can I keep her?”  
  
Victor reeled back through his laughter.“What? No!”  
  
“But I love her.”  
  
“I love her more, obviously.”  
  
“No, you really don’t.” He glanced for a moment out across the Neva. “But I’ll let you keep her.”  
  
“Oh now, how come?”  
  
The boy pulled Victor’s scarf further over his cheeks. “‘Cause you’re my friend.” Victor could just the see the edges of his smile above the scarf, carving out a haven for them above the river.  
  
It’d been a long time since Victor felt so warm.  
  
He took the poodle’s leash back and settled her into a steady gait, the boy avoiding his eyes all the while. “Well, you’re my friend too, so you can play with her whenever you want.”  
  
The boy finally looked back at him, his loose scarf revealing flushed cheeks under shining eyes.  
  
“Really?!”  
  
“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a kudos and a comment <3 They are always much appreciated!
> 
> I'm kind of all over the place now, so here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cowcatandsilver) \- [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/muttthecowcat) \- [dreamwidth](https://muttthecowcat.dreamwidth.org/)


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